The Ocean Is Holding All The Kings
by duathkaimelar
Summary: Set post-OST.  A slightly bewildered Blackbeard finds himself aboard the Flying Dutchman, and soon after Jack and Gibbs find themselves aboard the ship in their search to restore the Pearl.  A two-chapter story.
1. Part I: sea bound, and aimless at best

**The Ocean Is Holding All ****t****he Kings**

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><p>Summary: Set post – <em>On Stranger Tides<em>, almost directly after the end of the movie. A slightly bewildered Blackbeard finds himself aboard the _Flying Dutchman_. Can be stand-alone, but sets the scene for Part II, to be posted shortly.

Note: I realize that I may be taking some liberties with this, as strictly speaking Blackbeard did not die _at_ sea. However, considering the supernatural aura of the Fountain, the nature of his death, and his identity, I assumed it wouldn't be too far out of line.

No explicit pairings, mentions of Will/Elizabeth.

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><p><em><strong>PART I<strong>__/ __sea bound, and aimless at best_

_/_

"Say, Gibbs," Jack mused, more cheerful than he had been in days with the discovery of his beloved ship, "Suppose our favorite eunuch will recognize ol' Blackbeard?"

With a laugh, Gibbs kicked the sand under his feet and turned to face his captain. "What do _you_ think, Jack?"

"What _I_ think is that the boy was ne'er a proper pirate," Jack mumbled, "'S a crime when you consider his current position, savvy? Though I suspect that is what kept him alive."

"Well," Gibbs drawled, "until it didn't."

"True enough."

"Are you concerned?" The former first mate asked knowingly.

"'Course not!" Jack insisted. "Stubborn ol' git always insisted he could take care o' 'imself, and I'm willing to bet my hat that ol' Bootstrap's driving 'im up the wall."

"Still," Gibbs continued, pointedly shaking the sack full of bottles, "Curious that we didn't see Will around during Blackbeard's recent massacre, don't you think?"

"Can't say I thought about it too much," Jack lied.

Gibbs raised his eyebrows.

/

There were little means for quantifying time aboard the _Flying Dutchman_, which Will quickly found suited him just fine. Time held almost no value there, save for the desire to see his ten years pass. His years as a blacksmith had taught him many things, not the least of which was the virtue of patience and quiet introspection. As the days passed mostly by the moving of the tides, he found he was grateful for this. He wished sometimes that his father would learn the value of quiet introspection; Bootstrap was trying just a _little_ too hard to make up for lost time.

Despite the ambiguity, Will was certain a considerable amount of time had passed between becoming the captain and setting free all the souls who had been neglected or abused by Davy Jones. The task had been exhausting in all aspects; he had come face-to-face with those who were angry or bitter, those who were relieved to finally be set free, and those who were simply… sad. These sailors and pirates were mostly no-names who had desired to live their lives and ended up in the wrong place at the wrong time, perhaps crossed the wrong person in the process of living.

He found with no small amount of dismay that he was, in fact, quite choosey of those who would remain on the _Dutchman_'s crew (sometimes, he heard Jack in his head – _"No good pirate is that choos__e__y, mate"_). There was himself, Bootstrap, a few stragglers from the previous crew who couldn't quite bear to tear themselves away from the ship, and precious few others. He had no interest in tying anyone else to a fate he himself despised, was picky of his company, and preferred to weigh down the _Dutchman_ with considerably less baggage and liability than Davy Jones. Though plenty of things had changed about Will Turner since he had sprung one infamous pirate from a jail cell what seemed like a lifetime ago, his desire for a quiet life was not one of them.

Governor Weatherby and James Norrington had been two notable souls among the thousands that had meant anything to Will. Sometimes, he appreciated the occasional reminder of a previous life. Most of the time, he was content enough to shroud himself in the legend of the ship, sympathizing with the dead, treating them with kindness, but discouraging inane chit-chat.

One pirate had been killed on his ship during a raid from the Black Pearl. Will had nearly laughed himself sick to learn Jack had lost the ship to Barbossa _again_, though it had left him wondering what had come of his not-quite-friend, not-quite-enemy.

Except for those, months passed without incident, retrieving the dead, humoring his father, perhaps humoring himself, dreaming of Elizabeth and wondering what she was up to on land. He found himself constantly torn between trying to feel her in his dreams and trying to forget her entirely except for one day – he was never quite sure which was more painful.

Life (well, or not) became interesting again when, for what Will imagined had to add up to a few weeks at least, he was permanently stuck on the other side. This perplexed him greatly; the Captain's intuition he found with the _Dutchman_ _knew_ when there were souls to be ferried; he simply couldn't get there. His position also usually allowed a certain level of communication with Calypso, yet he found this communication cut off. Bootstrap suggested someone had pissed the goddess off somehow; Will didn't doubt it, even if he was still confused.

He would not get his answers until, on the first day in which he seemed able to cross over again, the _Dutchman_ came upon a most ridiculous, over-the-top dingy carrying one Edward "Blackbeard" Teach, whom Will did not recognize, but Bootstrap immediately did.

/

If not for the battles that had led to their current situation and the subdued yet deep pain he recognized in Will's eyes, Bootstrap thought he would be rather excited and filled with fantasies of spending years at sea with his son. Aside from his ever-present desire to please the child he had wronged, it took a great deal to rile up the generally calm old bloke. He was content to sail the seas, play dice, and occasionally act as the comic relief of the ship, whether it was desired or not.

Will knew these facts very well, and thus he was immediately on guard one foggy morning when his father glanced over the side of the ship to squint at one in the distance, took in the image of Blackbeard sailing towards the _Dutchman_, and promptly choked out his drink though his nose.

"An old friends of yours?" Will prompted quietly, inwardly torn between relief at resuming his duties and resentment at having his day disturbed. It wasn't as though this duty ever got easier.

"Don't be a fool, boy," Bootstrap bit out, barely. "That is _Blackbeard_."

Will's brow furrowed before he made the connection. "_The_ Blackbeard? Edward Teach?"

"Blazes," Bootstrap continued in response, "I'm not quite certain I want to hear the story of what killed him."

Will moved to steer the ship in the direction of the moving dingy. "You think he will try to cause trouble?"

"I would bet on it."

In his own part, Blackbeard, still bewildered at Jack's trickery and the whirlwind cycle of events, was almost looking forward to letting his frustration loose on the legendary Davy Jones, which only added to his bewilderment when, glancing up the side of the _Dutchman_ in reluctant admiration, he spotted Will Turner.

Blackbeard squinted, then blinked, and then squinted again. "You don't look like Davy Jones, boy."

"I'm going to take that as a compliment," Will bit out dryly, already in the process of letting down a rope to allow Blackbeard to board the ship. "My name is William Turner."

"You don't even look like a _pirate_," Blackbeard elaborated.

"Two compliments in a row from a complete stranger and infamous pirate, it must be my lucky day." (Will heard Jack in his head again – "_I wish you would have let me give you a tattoo and bead your hair, whelp. The captain of the Dutchman's gotta look the part, savvy?"_)

"Of all the things I'd thought I would see in my day," Bootstrap mumbled, "First Davy Jones is killed, and now _you_?"

By this time, Blackbeard had ascended the ship, and was strutting around as if he owned it, a tad suspicious that the clean but boding ship actually _was_ the _Flying__Dutchman_. Bootstrap was staring at him unbelievably, sipping again from his drink, and Will was glaring at this pirate who, while infamous, was still _dead_ and walking about his ship.

"I'd be placed in a bewilderment once again," Blackbeard dead-panned. "Seems those rumors 'bout Davy Jones and Calypso's release were true after all."

"Must be true that you never came out of your cabin," Bootstrap pointed out unnecessarily, "Otherwise it wouldn't have taken your death for you to know that."

"On the contrary, if I had _stayed_ in my cabin, I may still be alive." Blackbeard emphasized his point with heavy feet as he continued to survey the ship.

"I don't suppose I'm going to be able to lull you into delivering your soul with kind words," Will sighed, mostly to himself.

"What are you talking about, boy?" Blackbeard laughed as he caressed the helm.

"Get your hands _off of my ship_," Will growled uncharacteristically, the sea rocking under them with his anger.

Startled at the reaction, Blackbeard immediately removed his hands from the helm.

Unable to contain his curiosity, Bootstrap asked, "What in the _blazes_ happened to you?"

"Who are you?"

"Bill Turner. Call me Bootstrap."

"Well, I wish I knew," Blackbeard answered bitterly. "One minute, I am standing at the Fountain of Youth, convincing my daughter to save her old man's life, drinking from the chalice with the mermaid's tear. The next minute, I find out the bloody _chalices were switched_."

"Fountain of Youth?" Will asked incredulously. "That exists? Why am I surprised?"

"The chalices were _switched_?" Bootstrap, who was familiar with both the legend of the Fountain and of the ritual necessary for gaining eternal life, was more surprised at Blackbeard's demise than anything else. He glanced at Will and quickly explained, "There's a ritual – you need to find the Fountain, of course, but you also need two silver chalices, a mermaid's tear, and someone to sacrifice – gaining life comes with a price, you know."

Then he turned back to Blackbeard. "You are telling us that you and your crew managed to track down the chalices, obtain a mermaid's tear, and find the Fountain of Youth, and you didn't notice when someone switched the chalices on you?"

The flash in Blackbeard's eyes was the confirmation of the events; he didn't respond to Bootstrap's question.

"And which one of your crew members was brave enough to pull off that?"

"Not a crew member," Blackbeard corrected, perhaps too quickly. "Bloody Jack Sparrow."

"_Captain_," Will corrected automatically, an old reflex barely remembered, and then he realized what he had said. "Wait – Jack Sparrow? Captain of the Black Pearl, Jack Sparrow?"

"No one's captain of that ship anymore, boy," Blackbeard hissed proudly, "I sank it."

"You…" Will was at a loss for words. "You…"

"You _sank_ the Black Pearl?" Bootstrap finished his question, managing to express the shock that Will felt and anger on his own part.

"To be precise," Blackbeard continued proudly, "I sank it, shrank it and shoved it in a bottle, but yes."

"You-" Bootstrap started, moving towards Blackbeard to strike him. Will quickly rammed his elbow into his father's chest to stop him. "Ow! Will-"

More harshly than intended, Will pointed out, "I'm surprised that killing you via a switched chalice is all Jack did to you."

Taking it upon himself to look indignant, Blackbeard exclaimed, "That's trickery!"

Will snorted, cocking an eyebrow. "For Jack? That's standard issue."

Bootstrap laughed out loud at this as Blackbeard studied Will intensely for a few moments. "There was a man with Sparrow – muttered something about not seeing this ship around as I was busy making sure my crew members, say, remembered who I am. Where _were_ you?"

"I don't see how I owe any of these answers to you."

"No one seems to think they owe me anything lately."

"This surprises you?" Will was already tired of this guest. "You're a pirate."

"That's my point, boy," he continued, past Will's growls that he was most certainly no longer a boy, "Some of us are just _better_ at being pirates than others. There's no respect for that any more. What a shame."

Almost amused, Will stated, "I dare say that if the circumstances of your meeting had been different, Jack may have respected you, you know. Though he would never admit it."

"You think that means anything to me?"

Will shrugged. "I'm not so sure I care whether it does or not."

"Well, you tell him that when you see him, aye? See what he thinks about it."

"I will. Now if you don't mind, I really think we should get down to business-"

"Why the rush?"

"There are limits, you know."

"I have no desire to just let my soul be ferried off."

"I guessed; your death came as a result of your quest to cheat it. Seeing as your death is not reversible, I'm sure it would be to your advantage to come to terms with it."

Blackbeard's gaze bore into Will's knowingly. "I suppose you want me to believe you have come to terms with yours, then?"

Will sighed, closing his eyes and clenching his fist before regaining composure. "Your bitterness will get you nowhere, I can guarantee you that much."

"Don't think for a minute of asking to join the crew," Bootstrap growled, offended on Will's behalf at Blackbeard's intrusive questioning. Will placed a hand on his father's arm both in warning and reassurance.

Blackbeard's answering laugh was sharp. "I've no interest in joining Captain Turner's crew. What I want is an audience with Calypso."

The sea rolled under the _Flying Dutchman_ for a good few minutes in response. Bootstrap was skeptical. "Can you do that?"

Will's eyes flashed. "Calypso's not the sort to meet with pirates or sailors at their beck and call – normally. But it seems she has a bone to pick with you, as it were."

Blackbeard sighed. "I was afraid of that."

Before Bootstrap could question, Will elaborated with disgust, "Calypso does not take kindly on Pirate Lords who _abandon their posts_ as members of the Brethren Court."

"The Pirate Lords bound her to begin with!" Blackbeard tried to defend.

"She's had her revenge," Will explained, "Besides, it's more the lack of responsibility that bothers her."

There was a beat of silence between them all before Will pressed, "You just _left_?"

"Circumstances, Captain Turner. Circumstances." Then, he threw Will's logic back in his face. "Are you surprised? I'm a pirate."

"He's got a point." Bootstrap mumbled, before pondering, "Suppose the combined quest for the Fountain of Youth and this man's freedom upset the balance enough to affect us, Will?"

"Dunno," he shrugged, "It's possible."

"There's a way to find out, of course," Blackbeard grinned, "Give me an audience."

"The chance to negotiate your after-worldly fate with Calypso goes through me. In most cases if I judge the request to be ill-advised, dangerous, or purely selfish then I will deny it. Every fiber of my being itches to have you simply ferried on like the rest, but I will offer you one condition."

"I don't bargain."

"It is either that, or accept this as the last day of your consciousness. Your choice, Edward Teach."

Blackbeard tapped his foot impatiently and glared at Will in an attempt to intimidate him. Not only did he fail in his attempts, but he felt the sea roll under them again. He sighed. "Name your terms."

"You will tell me exactly how you managed to shrink down entire ships and store them in bottles, and you will tell me how to reverse the effect."

"What's it to you, Captain?"

"That is neither here nor there. You will tell me _how_; reasons do not matter."

"I hate giving up my secrets," Blackbeard growled, "but I suppose it matters little now. The process is rather simple. My sword is infused with magic and enchantments. The sword allowed me to directly control the ship. As soon as I had conquered another ship with the _Revenge_, the power of control extended to those ships – mostly. The _Pearl_ put up a good fight, she did, resisted me the whole way – resisted Barbossa too, I reckon. If you wish to restore those ships to their proper size, you'll need that sword."

He sniffed. "It's quite the shame, really. I must have had twenty ships in that collection."

After a quick glance at Blackbeard's person and in his dingy, Will asked, "Where is that sword?"

"I'd assume both my sword and my ship are with Barbossa, that bloody, useless, son of a-"

"_Barbossa?_" Will choked out. "Wonderful. A sea full of pirates and I can't seem to get away from the lot of you."

Shocked, Blackbeard pressed, "How do you know Barbossa?"

"That isn't any of your business," Will dismissed as the skies above them darkened and the wind swept through the sails. "Nor do we have the time for the story, apparently. Calypso is calling; she'll deal with you."

"Really you should thank me," Blackbeard stated cheekily, "I'm getting you off the hook, Captain Turner."

Will huffed. "I wouldn't say that. Besides, this is my job."

"You shouldn't worry about such things, mate. I didn't."

Raising an eyebrow, Will inquired, "And what would you have done, once you had gained immortality? Holed yourself up in your cabin eating until the end of time? What will you ask Calypso for?"

Blackbeard laughed. "As you have said yourself, Captain Turner, that is hardly any of your business." Water started to rush around him. "Ta, mateys."

/

The sea was left calm in the wake of Calypso pulling Blackbeard into her world of spirits. Will stood at the helm of the _Dutchman_ as the ship barely swayed, thoughtfully gazing upon the horizon.

"Shall I prep us for transitioning?" Bootstrap asked, ready to direct the crew. Will usually preferred not to linger in any one place.

"No," the captain instructed, and Bootstrap was only partially surprised. "We have business here."

"Could be weeks before we run into Jack or Barbossa," Bootstrap pointed out knowingly.

"Then I suppose it's convenient that time is only restricting to the living."

/

Will supposes that the technical term of _undead_ is chillingly proper for his current state of being. Although there were inherent freedoms that came with captaining the _Dutchman_, he would never consider himself truly free.

Aside from performing his duties, he is free to do what he wishes, free to go wherever he desires, as long as it is on the sea. He knows he is in less control than he is supposed to believe; Calypso surveys his every move. The _Dutchman_ whispers to him of her thoughts sometimes, but only in brief snippets – just enough to give him a window into her mind. He has slowly started to forget the feel of sand between his toes, and there is a dulled yet constant ache in his soul (in lieu of the heart he no longer possesses).

Will's not sure he has ever felt truly in control of his life. His earliest years, though not unhappy, were spent at his parent's discretion, and since then his life has consisted of running from one thing or another, living for Master Brown, living up to expectations. He very briefly felt in control of his decisions when sailing on a commandeered ship with Jack Sparrow on a boyish quest to save the woman he loves. He very briefly felt in control of his life in the months following the beginning of his relationship with Elizabeth. Both seemed like a lifetime ago now.

He had regrets, but all he had wanted for so long was to be with Elizabeth. His own actions helped bring them together. His own stubbornness, his rash actions to gain back control, probably lead to his death, until Jack had intervened.

Somewhere he thinks that he would not have regretted what he had done, if he had died – someone, presumably Jack, would have stabbed the heart, thus his father still would have been freed, and he'd been given time with Elizabeth.

This, though, this not-quite life, was as much of a gift as it was a curse. The time was borrowed, but it had given Elizabeth hope, the both of them more time, and him a chance to know his father.

Will supposed someone else may have held more bitterness toward the one who had done this to him, but Will recognized Jack's actions for the personal sacrifice that they were. Despite their shortcomings, they'd remained friends in the most important sense, and Will felt the need to repay Jack somehow. Releasing the souls Davy Jones had abused had only been one loose end after that battle; this was another.

Helping to restore the Pearl would certainly even their debt in his eyes.

At any rate, unlike Blackbeard, Will likes to fill his time somehow.

Illusions of control aren't always troublesome.

/

Jack sees the flash of green on the horizon out of the corner of his eye. A shiver runs through him at the sight.

He remembers blood and metal, his hand around one devoid of life and a limp form in pouring rain and isn't sure if the twinge he feels in his gut is from relief or regret.

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><p><strong>(To be continued in part 2)<strong>


	2. Part II: and turn your sail toward home

**The Ocean Is Holding All the Kings**

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><p>Summary: Post – <em>On Stranger Tides<em>, almost directly after the end of the movie. On their quest to restore the _Black Pearl_ to its former state, Jack and Gibbs come across the _Flying Dutchman_. Can be stand-alone, but is a companion piece to "Part I/ sea bound, and aimless at best" and may make more sense after reading it.

As with Part I, no explicit pairings, but Will/Elizabeth mentioned.

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><p><em><strong>PART II<strong>__/ and turn your sail toward home_

_..._

If Jack Sparrow (_Captain_) was the sort of man to contemplate fate and karma and life coming full circle, he would be quite perplexed indeed at the frequency of which his various excursions resulted in him rather annoyingly sticking close to the shore of the Caribbean in a hardly sea-worthy dingy, sometimes alone, sometimes with Joshamee Gibbs.

Jack wasn't really of the philosophical sort, however. He was more the type to count his blessings in terms of still having his life, so when he and Gibbs came upon an unused (at the moment) boat, slightly larger than the ones he was accustomed to pilfering, he counted himself rather lucky indeed, clutching the bottle holding the _Black Pearl_ to his chest more preciously than a bottle of rum.

Weeks passed uneventfully in their dingy. They both did what was in their power to avoid Barbossa, Gibbs concerned himself with remembering just where he knew a man with a goat, and Jack concerned himself with worrying how they were going to transport a goat in a dingy and with keeping the _Pearl_ is his possession. Life was just about at the status quo, for him.

His fate would change, as it always did, with the sea. One morning, Jack woke up feeling the hint of a storm in his being. As they had ventured a bit out from any island or mainland, Jack and Gibbs spent most of their time trying to find one. By mid-afternoon, just as they suspected the squall would hit, they'd found a small island in which they docked, pulled their dingy up and behind a large tree, and hunkered down behind a hill, Jack crouching over the _Pearl_ and Gibbs keeping his eye on the horizon.

It was not long before a small ship came into their view, obviously blown terribly off-course by the storm. The barely sea-worthy ship was rocking and rolling heavily in the winds. Sails were torn and it was not long before men were thrown overboard, likely before they could register what was happening.

Unsure if the frightened men were attempting to reach shore or simply hold their ground, Jack and Gibbs continued to watch from a distance for an uncertain amount of time until the storm finally calmed and the ship steadily slowed to an eerie still, fitting for the silence emitting from the remainder of their surroundings.

When they deemed it safe, they set back off in the dingy to reach the ship, looking for survivors and supplies. Admittedly, Jack was hoping to _rescue_ the little ship from its demise in the absence of any. Just as they reached the ship, his vision was blinded by a flash of green.

...

There were certain risks that presented themselves hand-in-hand with life on the sea. In fact, Jack knew very well the risks that presented themselves with life on _land_ as well; he preferred risking death at sea for many reasons. Sailors and pirates alike knew nature's fury better than landlubbers. The possibility of dying in a rough storm was so common it was almost forgotten, expected rather than feared.

There was little unrest within the sailors killed by this particular squall. There was sadness, there was regret, but little bitterness. Will's job was a fairly easy one considering, and Jack and Gibbs observed him quietly yet somewhat awkwardly from their dingy.

Jack noted with both disgust and a small amount of awe just how well Will counterattacked the foreboding aura of the _Dutchman_. He was firm, commanding, confident as a captain should be, but calm. He treated the sailors with sympathy.

The pirate ran his hand over the bottle holding the _Pearl_ as he fought viciously against the twinge in his gut. He looked anywhere but the scar that ran down Will's chest. Ferrying souls into the world of the dead wasn't a job anyone should have to be good at.

He didn't miss the look on Will's face when he had finished; eyes closed and his face tight, a hand clenching the ship. In a moment, however, he had plastered a more pleasant look on his face and Jack, in a similar manner, brightened his own face.

"Jack," Will acknowledged with the hint of a smile, "Mr. Gibbs."

Tipping his hat in greeting, Jack moved to stand in the dingy. "Captain Turner! Fancy runnin' 'nto you, aye? Thought you had decided to take an extended vacation in Davy Jones' locker, I did." Jack was cut off when the dingy rocked, and then he exclaimed, "Hey! Guess we can't call it that anymore." He wrinkled his nose. "'Will Turner's Locker' doesn't hold the same ring."

"Sounds better than 'Jack Sparrow's Locker,'" Gibbs laughed, and then turned to Will. "You look good, Will. Well, that is," he gestured at him, "For an undead man."

"Thank you, Gibbs," Will paused, "I think."

"Say William," Jack drawled, making a point to poke his foot at the dingy's rotting planks, "Much as I've been looking forward to a shared bottle of rum and a good catch-up, I would prefer to do so on a more worthy boat, if you please."

"You know what, Jack, I know what happened to the Pearl, so I'm not even going to harass you."

With an appreciative smile despite his briefly darkened mood, Jack moved to throw a rope up to Will before he was stopped by a wave of his hand. "Don't bother, Jack."

Will threw two long ropes over the side of the _Dutchman_ and waited patiently for Jack and Gibbs to board. With a touch to an earring, the _Dutchman_ began gracefully sliding towards them on Will's command. "I'll anchor up," he explained unnecessarily, "I'm assuming you both have some time."

"All the time in the world, mate," Jack grinned, "As long as I have me drink." He tilted his head back towards a small barrel in the dingy.

"You would lose your own head if it wasn't attached to your spine, but you always know where the rum is," Will mumbled good-naturedly.

Gibbs, however, was one step ahead of them, and had lowered himself back down into the dingy to retrieve it and had returned with both the rum and the sack full of ships by the time the conversation was over.

"So tell me," Jack had uncorked a previously unopened bottle and ceremoniously plopped himself down on the deck. He wiggled around on the floor, trying to find a comfortable spot, and seemed to find none. "_Pearl_ never felt this…unkindly," he grumbled darkly, and then, "Did you, in fact, take an extended vacation?"

Will's eyes flashed in response. "Just what kind of man do you take me for?"

"Jus' checkin'!" The pirate defended, then took another drink. "Wonder what 'appened to anger our Calypso, then."

"How do you know it wasn't _Will_ who pissed off Calypso?" Gibbs asked. Will had privately wondered the same.

"'Cause 'e's not all…" Jack wiggled his fingers. "Tentacle-y."

"I just couldn't transition, Jack," Will explained, "I don't know what it was. Something about the _Dutchman_… she has her own thoughts, just like the _Pearl_ does. She tells me things, sometimes, about the ship, about pirate history. Calypso will speak to me through her. But she's keeping me rather in the dark regarding this. I thought maybe the quest to find the Fountain… but who can say?"

"Ah," Jack toyed with the trinkets on his fingers, "Calypso was always a fickle bitch."

The sea rolled under them, and Jack grinned, raising his bottle as if to toast her. "Ta, darlin'."

"Jack!" Bootstrap's shout was easily heard from the other ship. "I'm glad to see that you are just as mad as ever."

"Or madder," Jack pointed out honestly, "Which is a good thing, see, 'cause you aren't looking quite so – " another wiggle of the fingers, "tentacle-y anymore, and now I can be mad enough for the both of us."

Bootstrap laughed out loud and Will, despite himself, grinned.

"God help me," Will chuckled, moving to sit next to the pirate, "I think I've actually _missed you_."

"'Course ye have, luv," he offered the bottle to Will, "'m Captain Jack Sparrow."

"And don't you forget it!" Gibbs roared, walking to sit closer to them with Bootstrap in tow. "Why don't you tell Will the story of how I was almost hung under your name!"

"You're still bitter 'bout that? You need more rum and sun in your face, mate. It all worked out, didn't it?"

Sighing in resignation, Gibbs glanced back at the _Dutchman_. "What does your crew do after… sendings, Captain Turner?"

Will shrugged his shoulders. "Whatever they like. This was an easy job. If I had someone joining my crew, Dad would be showing them around. Seeing as I don't, the crew can carry on as they like. No one's going to bother that ship."

"No, I suppose not," Jack conceded, "Seeing as you escaped Blackbeard's massacre and all."

"I'm sorry, Jack," Will whispered, "But I think I know how to restore the _Pearl_."

Jack pulled the aforementioned ship-in-a-bottle out from his chest, placing it carefully between his legs. "Do ye now?" He sounded hopeful.

"Sure. Blackbeard came aboard my ship not long ago."

Gibbs and Jack both choked on their drinks.

"Well? You shouldn't be surprised."

"I suppose not, but, Jesus." Gibbs choked. "What was he like?"

"A pirate. Acted like he had rights to everyone and everything on the sea."

Now onboard the ship, Bootstrap chastised, "Leave it to you to get mixed up with him, Jack."

"We almost didn't!" Jack felt the need to defend himself and wasn't quite sure why. "We just wanted to be in the same place at the same time, is all."

"But you still _did_ get mixed up with him," Bootstrap persisted, "And he didn't seem too happy about it, either."

"Didn't please me much either, mate," Jack said. "Besides that, he's a coward."

"Even in death he was a coward," Bootstrap agreed, "Wanted to see Calypso."

Jack grinned at this. "She won't be showin' him any sympathy." Clearly done with the conversation, he tilted his head toward Will. "What do you have to say about this mate?" He tilted the bottle towards Will as well.

Changing the subject but finally accepting the offer of the drink, Will began, "Listen, my days pass by the same, escorting the dead and all that. Tell me what you've been up to, Jack."

"Pillagin', plunderin', samplin' the Caribbean's variety of rum, impersonating the English," Jack explained proudly, making a great show of shaking the beads in his hair. "Everythin' and nothin' the same, luv, 'til we met up with Blackbeard. I suppose that no-good scoundrel told you the story."

"Most of it," Will replied, "though not everything. What became of the Fountain, anyway?"

"Spanish destroyed it."

Will blinked. "That's… it?"

"That's life," Jack replied as if it were obvious, "Least Blackbeard got what was coming to 'im."

"_Speaking_ of which," Will prodded, "Who is this girl Blackbeard spoke of?"

"Which one?"

"_Jack_. The girl you switched the chalices to save."

"Oh, you mean that stubborn, lying, cheating scoundrel who impersonated me? Poorly? I didn't want to save her, I just wanted Blackbeard dead."

"Oh, _sure_," Gibbs laughed before Will had the chance to, "Don't be lyin' to the Turners, Jack."

"Wait, wait," Bootstrap shouted suddenly, "Angelica? Don't tell me-"

"Yes," Jack cut off harshly, "It _was_ her."

"She's Blackbeard's _daughter_?"

Jack made a point of chugging the rest of his bottle.

"Huh." Bootstrap was almost at a loss for words. "Angelica was a girl Jack _had_ – repeatedly, get it? Never stuck to one woman for too long, though there were a few exceptions. Found her in a Spanish convent, he did."

Will spit out his mouthful of rum. "JACK!"

"Pirate."

Bootstrap continued, "And she turned out to be – well I'll be damned."

"Ye already are, mate. Now," Jack's hands flew erratically through the air until Gibbs took the hint and handed him a second bottle of rum, "Back to business, aye? What did that scoundrel tell you about my ship, Will?"

"Barbossa. You need Blackbeard's sword to reverse the magic on the Pearl."

Jack chugged. Again. "Bloody wonderful."

"I don't suppose Barbossa is going to reverse the magic without expecting something in return."

"That's not a problem," Gibbs said brightly, shaking the bag of bottles again. "He can have one of these!"

Will regarded Jack, "Is Barbossa going to put up a fight for the _Pearl_ specifically though?"

Jack shrugged. "Barbossa respects the _Pearl_, I will give him that. When life gets too easy for 'im, he gets restless though, savvy? Long as 'e's got the _Revenge_, it won't break his heart to leave me with my ship."

Will was weary. "You sound confident of that, Jack, but I'm not so sure."

"Well, I am, suppose it's a good thing I'm the one doing the restorin'."

Not one to refute Jack's logic, at least in this case, Will nodded and sipped his bottle of rum. The four sat in silence for a good few moments, before Bootstrap let out a sigh and strapped his bottle to his hip.

"Gibbs," Bootstrap began, "Why don't you come aboard the _Dutchman_for a short bit? Got something I want you to see.

Gibbs asked Will tentatively, "Can I?"

"I don't see why not," Will shrugged, "Davy Jones forced the living onto the ship quite frequently."

After Gibbs followed Bootstrap onto the _Dutchman_, Will and Jack sat in silence again, though not uncomfortably, for a good many moments before Jack finally spoke.

"Listen, Will. Seems to me," Jack began, his eyes flitting anxiously around the ship, "I got your pretty little 'ead into this right mess, and didn't do much to," he gestured erratically at Will, "get you out of it."

Stretching his legs out in front of him, Will sighed. "It's not like I did you any favors either, Jack. We all had our own agenda."

Though Jack agreed, he didn't respond to that.

"_We all had our own agenda_." Will repeated. "Part of yours was to stab the heart, gain your immortality, wasn't it? You can't tell me that "Jack Sparrow, Captain of the Flying Dutchman" didn't have a proper ring to you."

"The ship's a beauty, but she isn't the _Pearl_."

"_That_ was your reason?" Will asked incredulously, clearly not fooled. "When it comes to sacrifices, I know this is one you would have been willing to make, Jack. As for the _Pearl_, you could have had a fleet."

"Too much work."

"You were never able to fool me, you remember that right?"

"Such riddles, Will Turner," Jack spat out, "_That_ you get from our old tentacle-y bastard."

Will snorted. "You _claim_ to be on this…continuous quest for immortality, and yet you return all of the gold pieces to their rightful place, help me stab the heart of Davy Jones to give me more time with Elizabeth, and then you find the Fountain of Youth, and save another instead of yourself?"

"Seems to me, if there have insofar been _three_ methods for becoming the Immortal Captain Jack Sparrow, there are more, savvy?"

Raising his eyebrows, Will asked, "And the past few times haven't been the opportune moment, is that it?"

"Now you're catching on, whelp."

"You want to know what I think?"

Jack huffed, "I'm just surprised you think at all."

"I think you're getting soft in your old age, Jack."

Jack sputtered. "Soft? _Soft?_ And OLD? You wound me, William. William, William. There is no such thing as an old pirate, you know, and as far as _soft-_"

"He was soft far before he was old," Gibbs cut in, not able to hear the conversation but having heard Jack's outburst, and teased, "Why, just the other day he admitted to me-"

"SHUT IT!" Jack roared, then, quieter, "No respect."

"I think _you_ ought to be showing _me_ the respect, Captain Sparrow," Will pressed on, "After all, I've got a better ship."

"So you do. At the moment."

"I think you just admitted I can one-up you."

"Well not _permanently."_

"While I admit your methods were unorthodox as always, you were trying to do a good thing. I won't fault you for that, Jack. I'm not angry."

"Don't lie to me."

"I'm not angry at _you_. Not anymore. Not any more angry than I'm sure you were at me."

Jack smiled; it did not reach his eyes. "Way I remember it, we traded each other in more than once; we're square."

"Except we're _not_," Will insisted, "We may be square on the enemies bit, yet we are not on the mates bit."

"And just how are you suggesting we rectify that situation, aye?"

Will wasn't about to admit to Jack that he had blackmailed Blackbeard into telling him how to restore the Pearl. "If Barbossa gives you hell when you attempt to use that sword, I'll give _him_ hell."

The sea rolled suddenly and swiftly under them before Jack had the chance to respond. A coolness in the breeze separate from the air swept through them.

"I think that's my cue," Will explained, his gaze flickering between the _Dutchman_ and the sky. He turned back to Jack. "Listen, have you…" he paused briefly, "have you heard from Elizabeth?"

Will let out a breath. He'd been dying to ask _someone_.

Gently shaking his head, the pirate replied, "Sorry, mate, I have not. I've been avoiding those parts as of late, as it were."

"No, it's alright. I mean, I understand, it's not as though she…" he broke off, staring at the waves, before reaching into his jacket to pull out a carefully folded envelope. "Do you… if you see her, can you give her this?"

After examining the envelope as he would plunder, Jack replied, "Might be a while."

"It will be sooner than if she waits for me."

Jack nodded and took the envelope from Will. "'Course. I'll see she gets it. I won't even read it."

A snort. "Yeah, right."

There was a pause in conversation as they stared each other down, both unsure of what to say. In addition to the ever-changing status of their relationship, Jack hated goodbyes, and Will was sure this wasn't one.

"_Thank you_, Jack." Will gently squeezed his forearm. "Take care of yourself."

Jack nodded. "Same to you, mate. The next time I see you the only changes I want to see to you are grey hairs."

"Very funny," Will rolled his eyes, "I would recommend you keep yourself from pissing off more Pirate Lords for the time being, but I reckon you've pissed them all off by now."

"Perhaps," Jack agreed, "But I'll take that as a challenge."

...

Jack has kept more promises than he has broken lately. Whether to himself or others, he doesn't make them lightly. Briefly, he believes it was brilliant foresight on his part not to make more promises to _himself_, because he can't quite seem to keep those – the _Pearl_ always seems to be slipping out of his reach; the precious few friends that he has are scattered across the Caribbean at any one moment.

The most important promises, though, that he's kept. The wind is in his hair, the swaying of the water is still under his feet. He takes the days one at a time. If, every day, each day at a time, he finds himself with his ship, a bottle of rum and good company, that's an added, glorious bonus.

A pirate's life, indeed.

**End.**

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><p>Thanks for reading!<p> 


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